Fragments
by TheTBone
Summary: "Driven by the forces of love, the fragments of the world seek each other so that their world may come into being." A broken glass brings back painful memories for the twins. Can they let Stef and Lena in enough to help them piece their lives back together, or will they forever remain fragments of their former selves? Pre-pilot.
1. Buried

**The Fosters isn't mine, and that really sucks.**

Jesus gripped the straps of his backpack tightly, his knuckles turning white from the desperately firm hold. He knew he was being paranoid. No one was going to know what he had buried deep under his math textbook and pencil case. No one would even know that the crumpled and crinkled paper was there unless they had X-ray vision which, as much as Stef tried to convince him she had, he knew wasn't possible.

He slowly climbed into the clunky Suburban, crushing his backpack under the seat and buckling his seatbelt. His shoulders slumped forward, his head hung down as Lena pulled out of the elementary school parking lot.

"Hey guys!" Lena greeted as she began driving away from the school. "How was everyone's day?" she asked routine question.

Brandon and Mariana responded with the equally routine answers "fine" and "good."

"What about you, Jesus. Everything good?" Lena asked, peering into the rearview mirror in order to glance at Jesus sitting in the backseat.

"Yeah," Jesus said unconvincingly. His forehead began to get hot and he began to sweat. Mariana looked over at him with a questioning look; Jesus just shook his head in response and returned to staring at his hands in his lap.

Brandon, completely oblivious to the silent conversation that had just taken place between the young twins, continued to babble about his weekend plans.

"So then Aiden said that I could go to his house after school and play with him and I told him that I wanted to but I would have to ask you guys first so do you think I could go?" he said quickly, excitement evident in his voice.

"I think that would be fine," Lena replied from the front seat, still glimpsing back every-so-often to try and determine what was going on with Jesus. It wasn't like him to be so quiet. Usually he was the one going on and on about what had happened at school that day. She shook her head and decided to figure that out later. Right now she should give her full attention to the street; they would have bigger problems if her distracted driving veered them off the road and into a ditch.

"Okay great!" Brandon replied. "So can you drop me off now? His house is really close to ours so it's not very far away," he asked convincingly. Lena swore that kid was going to grow up and be a lawyer. Or a miniature Stef. Lena didn't know which she feared more.

"I suppose so. And since it's Friday you don't have to worry about getting homework done. Sure, I guess that'd be okay. Do you have his address?" Lena inquired.

Brandon rambled off the address, along with what was on the itinerary for his and Aiden's play date.

"I'll walk you up to the door, B," Lena said as she put the car in park in the Huntington's driveway. "Be back in a minute, guys," she told Mariana and Jesus, who were still buckled in the backseat.

"What's wrong?" Mariana asked as soon as Lena was out of earshot. She knew something was going on with her brother, she could feel it, but she didn't want to make a big scene about it in front of their foster mother. She had accidentally been overheard by one of their previous foster parents talking to Jesus about how he had to stay in for recess because he had forgotten his homework. Big mistake.

"Nothing," Jesus said, the sharpness in his tone a defensive mechanism. He was ashamed and embarrassed and he didn't want to tell anyone about it. Especially not Mariana.

"Jesus, I'm not stupid," Mariana said. Although she was incredibly shy and extremely quiet around Stef, Lena, and just about everyone else, she could be feisty when she wanted to be, a side of herself she usually reserved for Jesus.

Jesus sighed, knowing that she was going to break him down eventually. She could always tell when something was wrong with him, and she knew all the right buttons to push to get him to talk.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't even say it. He was too humiliated. Instead he grabbed his backpack from under the seat and dug out the disgraced paper. He shoved it into her hand and looked out the window, unable to bring himself to watch her reaction.

"Jesus! You failed your spelling test?" Mariana exclaimed, her mouth dropping open at the sight of the big red 'F' at the top of his paper. He had gotten almost every problem wrong, most of his numbers having glaring, crimson X's through them.

"I didn't mean to," he said, ripping the paper out of her hands and stuffing it back into its place of shame at the bottom of his bag. "I couldn't help it, okay? I can't focus. No matter how hard I try I'm just too stupid to do anything right. You're lucky you're the smart one," he replied bitterly.

Mariana bit her lip; almost feeling guilty about the 'A' she had received on her test, complete with a glittery smiley face sticker that said 'Great Work!' "It'll be okay, Jesus," she reassured him, patting him on the arm. These were the roles they fell into; he protected her when she was scared, and she comforted him when he was nervous. It had been the way it always worked, the two-way street of looking out for each other.

Jesus kept his head down, but was thankful that Mariana wasn't giving him a hard time about it. It's not like he didn't try. Lena had quizzed him as much as, if not more than, she had quizzed Mariana. It was always just so hard to focus when his mind was going a million miles a minute.

"Do you think I should tell them?" Jesus brought up the question that had been on his mind all day. He knew he would be in trouble either way, and he was feeling so guilty that he wasn't sure he would be able to keep it to himself much longer.

"No!" Mariana cried, looking at him wide-eyed. "Are you crazy, Jesus? You _cannot_ tell them, you're only going to get yourself hurt and in trouble," she said. She had a point. Coming clean would definitely mean getting into trouble, whereas if he could hide it maybe they would never have to know and everyone would forget about it.

"But-" he began to protest, the guilt still eating him on the inside.

"No," Mariana cut him off sharply. She hated seeing Jesus get hurt. Having to see pain inflicted on him was almost worse than enduring it herself. "Jesus, just don't, okay?"

"Fine, fine, I won't," he promised. He knew how hard it was for Mariana to have to witness the consequences of the trouble he often found himself in.

"Good," Mariana replied, ending the conversation just in time for the car door to open and Lena to retake her place in the driver's seat of the vehicle.

"All right, guys, anywhere else we need to stop before we head home?" she asked. "No?" she confirmed, getting no response, taking their silence as a negative. "Okay, home we go then," she said, tightly gripping the steering wheel. Something was obviously going on with these two. The problem was she hadn't a clue what it was or how to find out.

**What did you guys think? Are you enjoying this so far? Leave me a review and let me know! This will probably be about a four-parter. I hope you guys are liking it! Thanks for reading! =)**

**Special thanks to justliziam and obsessedatopia for betaing and letting me bounce ideas off of them. Nothing would get done without either of those lovely ladies!**


	2. Broken

**Alas, I do not own The Fosters. **

Lena drove home in silence, counting on talking to Stef in order to try and put the pieces of the puzzle together or find a way to convince Mariana and Jesus to help them do so.

Needless to say, Lena was both relieved and confused when she saw her wife's car in the driveway when she got home. "Looks like Stef's home," she spoke her observation aloud, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She was glad she wasn't going to have to deal with this alone, glad to have the support of her wife.

Meanwhile in the back seat, Jesus was feeling something very different. Stef had to have figured out what he'd done. She must know what had happened. Why else would she be home? She would probably be waiting on the porch with his and Mariana's suitcases, their clothes already packed and ready to send to yet another home.

Mariana bit her nail nervously, her thoughts aligning with Jesus'. Stef wouldn't be home this early unless it was something big, right? She only wished she had better prepared herself for her wrath.

"Hey, honey, what are you doing home?" Lena called, stepping out of the car as she spied the blonde sitting on the stair leading up to the house.

"Got off a little early. Roberts is training some poor kid fresh out of the uni so they don't need me past four today. Figured we could get an early start on the weekend."

"That's great," Lena said, "but why are you sitting out _here_ as opposed to in _there_?" she questioned.

Stef shrugged. "I don't know. It's a nice day; I figured I could use some fresh air."

"Mhm, you locked yourself out of the house again, didn't you?" Lena asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously, not for a moment believing the phony story.

Stef sighed, defeated. "I hate our doors. Let's get new ones, ones that are easier to not get locked out of."

"Don't you go blaming the door, Stefanie; it is your own fault that you can't remember how to properly use a key."

"Oh wow, you just full-named me. Did you hear that, kids? Full-named. She's not messing around," she told Mariana and Jesus, who were silently standing behind Lena. Each tried to smile for the sake of keeping up appearances, but they were both failing considering they were both so fearful that being full-named would be the least of their problems.

"Hold on a second," Stef put a hand up, "one, two," she said, taking a headcount. "If I'm not mistaken, we're missing a kid. Lena where is my other child? You know, about ye-high," she lifted her hand. "Plays piano, likes to read, has stunning looks he inherited from his mother?"

Lena chuckled. "Dropped him off at Aiden's house for a play date," she replied.

Stef nodded, "all right, looks like it's just us for awhile, yes?"

"Listen, Stef, I need to talk to you. Preferably someplace somewhat private," Lena said discreetly, suddenly turning serious.

Stef nodded, getting serious as well. "Sure. Okay, why don't you two go inside, go ahead and get yourself a snack if you want, we'll be in to join you in a few minutes," she instructed the twins.

The pair said nothing, instead silently walking side-by-side into the house while Lena and Stef conferred.

"Do you think they know?" Jesus asked when they arrived in the kitchen.

"No, not yet at least," Mariana replied. "And they won't have to if you keep quiet about it."

Jesus nodded, still not fully convinced. He was still so nervous. He was about ready to let the secret spill, not caring what the consequence was. Anything they dished out had to be better than the suffocating guilt he was currently feeling.

Everything was so confusing, and he couldn't organize his thoughts. It was like the spelling test all over again. Nothing made sense in his head, everything had been moving around too fast and too often for him to grip it.

He opened the fridge and took out two oranges for himself and Mariana. He also snatched the gallon of milk while Mariana went about getting two plates and glasses on which to eat their snack.

Jesus then went about pouring the milk while Mariana set to peeling the oranges, each falling into a routine of give-and-take.

They both sat at the barstools in silence, each musing over what had happened and what their next plan of actions would be.

Jesus' head was still spinning, his body getting more and more hyperactive as time went on, the thoughts penetrating and twisting his brain. The nerves and guilt caused his body to shake with fear or uncertainty, and he realized there would be no good answer. Either he would continue to feel this guilty secret, or he would come clean and face the painful consequences. His body quaked with the fear of both, each option seemingly overwhelming and unbearable. He distractedly reached for his glass of milk, longing for some of the cool liquid to soothe his burning throat. However, his trembling arm mixed with the slippery juice of the orange made this a disastrous idea.

Before he or Mariana could register what was happening, the glass container was everywhere. Hundreds of tiny glass shards littered the counter and floor, milk splashing and soaking into everything.

They both sat there for a couple moments, not knowing what to do, their mouths hanging open in disbelief. Jesus bit down on his tongue. He always messed everything up. He was always ruining everything. Now he was in even bigger trouble. He didn't even go seeking it out; it just always seemed to find him. He deserved any punishment he was going to get, and although he knew he wouldn't like it, he decided he was going to take it as well as he could, and hopefully Mariana wouldn't have to see most of it.

But Mariana had other ideas.

"Okay, it's okay, we can fix this. I can fix this," she said. Always the problem-solver. She was quick on her feet, literally jumping up from her seat to Jesus. Her heart was racing, and she knew that she needed to race against the clock if she was going to hide this evidence, or at least figure out a plan to protect her twin.

She frantically started grabbing at the tiny, broken shards and tossing them into the trash.

"Mariana, what are you doing?!" Jesus yelled, knowing what she was doing was dangerous.

"Be quiet, Jesus, I'll fix it! I don't want you to get in trouble" she yelled back, still continuing to sweep up the smashed cup with her hands.

"Mariana, stop!" Jesus commanded her, getting up from his seat, ready to pull his sister away from the mess.

"Shut up, Jesus!" Mariana ordered, her voice cracking in hysterics. Tears burned at her eyes as her tiny hand clenched the sharp glass. Her hands were stinging, and each time she went back to stash more of the jagged evidence, fresh, sharp wounds sliced at her small, bare palm.

The two could faintly hear the swinging open of a door and two pairs of footsteps briskly coming through the house, but neither paid it much attention. Mariana continued to try and clean the glass while Jesus stood behind her, trying to convince and persuade her to stop what she was doing.

**Whoa. I am seriously so humbled by the response and support this story has gotten after just one chapter. I cannot thank you all enough. Your kind words are overwhelming. Thank you all so much! I hope you continue to enjoy and give feedback! It's very helpful and lovely to read! **

**Thanks to justliziam and obsessedatopia for helping me out with proofreading and idea-bouncing!**


	3. Bloody

**I don't own The Fosters. If you didn't already know that, I am very concerned for you. **

"Hey!" Stef yelled as she took in the scene before her. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Away from the glass. Away from the glass!" she shouted, the mixture of her cop and maternal instincts kicking in. She placed a hand on Lena's shoulder, instructing her to stay put for a second before diving straight into the scene.

She gently tugged on the back of Jesus' t-shirt, thankful he was still on the outside of the majority of the glass mess. She quickly guided him over to Lena's care before returning to retrieve her other half of the twosome. She lifted Mariana up out from the eye of the storm, carrying her over to join Lena and Jesus in a safe, glass-free zone.

She set her down on the ground, taking her hands in her own in order to gauge the severity or her injuries. Stef grabbed a dishrag from the counter and wrapped it around the younger girl's bloody hand, using the cloth as a makeshift band-aid for the time being until either she or Lena could fix it up properly.

"What is going on here?" Stef asked, almost dumbfounded. She had expected to come into a small sibling tiff, not blood and broken glassware.

"I dropped a cup," Mariana said quickly, covering for her brother. She knew that he would already be in enough trouble with his spelling test. He didn't need another reason for Stef and Lena to be angry with him.

"No, I dropped the cup," Jesus corrected, refusing to let her take the blame for him.

"No, I dropped it," Mariana replied, sending a harsh glare in Jesus' direction.

"It doesn't really matter who dropped the cup!" Stef ended the fruitless exchange, throwing her hands up, already exhausted by the twins' mind games. "What matters is that you're bleeding!" she exclaimed, again grabbing the young girl's hands to double-check that the situation didn't require medical attention. Although they didn't look good, it didn't look like calling an ambulance was going to be necessary. However, she was a little flabbergasted at the fact that Mariana was remaining so calm regarding the injuries. It looked like they hurt like hell. It made her sick to think that she'd been in worse shape in former homes.

Recognizing Stef's frustration in respect to the confusing situation, Lena decided to relieve some of her stress and speak up. Though she knew her wife meant no harm, and was simply overwhelmed by the circumstances, she felt the twins tense up slightly at her raised voice. Although Lena knew Stef would never intentionally hurt one of her children, she figured that maybe she was better equipped to diffuse the current situation. Her tendency to have a quieter, calmer nature than her blonde counterpart may make her a better match to handle this particular ordeal.

"It's okay, guys, you can explain what happened, but right now we really need to get this mess picked up," she said, referring to the glass and milk. "And we need to get you cleaned up," she told Mariana, gently squeezing her shoulder in reassurance. "How about you come to the bathroom with me and we can get you some band-aids," she suggested to Mariana.

"What about Jesus?" Mariana asked helplessly, biting her lip and still holding the dishrag to her hand.

"He can stay in here with Stef and keep her company while she tidies up the kitchen," Lena said, silently throwing a glance her partner's way, asking with her eyes if she would agree to this plan. Her grateful nod indicated that this would be fine by her, and that she was thankful for Lena taking control in this tricky position.

The color drained from Mariana's face, the memories flooding back. She couldn't leave him alone, she just couldn't. Every time she left him he got hurt worse than if she was there. "But I want to stay with him," she anxiously protested.

"He'll be okay, Mariana," Lena reassured her. "And I really need to take a look at that hand so it doesn't become infected, all right? Would you please come up to the bathroom so I can get the first-aid kit and make it feel better?"

Mariana glanced over at Jesus and Stef. Stef didn't look very angry, but then again, what difference did that make? You could still hurt someone without looking mad. Jesus nodded at her, signaling for her to go on. Sometimes Mariana wished she could be as brave as her brother. She looked back at Lena and nodded reluctantly, and was met with a warm smile. She allowed the curly-haired woman to gently take hold of her wrist, seeing as her hands were in no condition to be held.

Permitting herself to be led up the stairs, she glanced down about halfway up, looking back at the scene in the kitchen with regret. Her stomach ached with guilt as she made her way to the second story, but figured there wasn't much she could do now. It was too late for her to do anything, and the only thing she could do was to be there for Jesus when the storm had passed.

As they arrived in the bathroom, Lena figured it would be easiest to tend to the injuries there. She flipped down the toilet seat, mumbling annoyances about how Brandon had yet again failed to do so himself. He was living in a house with three other women; he was going to have to start making that a habit if he valued his life.

"Go ahead and take a seat right here, sweetheart," she ordered Mariana, perching the girl on the porcelain cover. She moved to the upper cabinet, grabbing the first-aid kit before shoving the stool so it was closer to her wounded child.

She adjusted the stepstool so it was facing the toilet, lowering herself onto it and placing the first-aid kit on the counter next to her.

"All right," she said, opening the kit and grabbing gauze, anti-infective gel, and a box of band-aids. "Let's see what we got here," she said, carefully taking Mariana's hands in order to remove the now blood-stained dishrag.

Lena winced at the sight of it, but more out of sympathy than discomfort. Being a kindergarten teacher, she was constantly dealing with scraped knees, accidental pencil-stabbings, and even a brutal monkey-bar accident or too. She didn't get too fazed by blood anymore. The queasiness about it had worn off since that one time she threw up while dissecting pigs in Biology her junior year…

She got up temporarily to grab a fresh washcloth, wetting it with cool water under the sink. She glanced at Mariana in the mirror. Her head was down as if to examine the extent of her injuries, but her mind looked like it was in a completely different world. Or room, as Lena would dare to imagine. Quite probably in the room almost directly below them; the one that contained Stef and her twin brother.

Lena knew the possibilities of her openly offering information were slim; Mariana was a very private girl who easily hid her emotions. However, she figured with a little gentle prompting she may be able to get some of the bottled-up emotions out of her. She suspected what Mariana was venturing to think. She had read her and Jesus' files. She had seen their medical history. Lena had a vague idea of what kind of questions to ask.

And other than the fact that she was educated on the subject, she and Mariana's connection had been strengthened in the last few weeks. Not substantially by any means, but there had been little improvements, small breakthroughs. For example, she had come to Lena for help on a math question one night. Though that seemed miniscule in the grand scheme of things, it said a lot about Mariana through even that small act of trust, the fact that she came to her with a question on anything.

"So," Lena started, softly dabbing at her hands with the cold, moist rag, "what were you and Jesus talking about?"

Mariana looked up at her, her eyes wide. Did she know? Could she have heard them discussing the spelling test? "Just school," she said, playing it safe. It wasn't a lie exactly. She'd keep it vague, not wanting to disclose any more information than necessary.

Lena nodded. "You seemed pretty upset with him. Did you guys have a fight?"

Mariana shrugged. "Sort of I guess."

"Yeah? What about?" she asked nonchalantly, replacing the rag in her hands with the antibacterial medicine and gauze.

"Just stupid things," Mariana replied, desperately avoiding the truth of the matter.

Lena pursed her lips. She needed a different angle. She was obviously either unwilling or too frightened to speak on that issue.

"Your hand is pretty scraped up," she commented.

"It's been worse," Mariana said. Lena was unable to stop her eyes from going wide with shock for a split second. Luckily, she was able to get her emotions under control before Mariana had a chance to see the startled reaction. It wasn't even the statement that so disturbed Lena, although it was quite upsetting. Instead it was the calm casualness in her tone that was the most unsettling. As if it was a normal occurrence. As if it was supposed to be that way.

Lena cleared her throat. "Still, it's pretty busted up. Why'd you pick up the glass? You know you could've gotten Stef or me to handle it," she said.

"I didn't want you to be mad," the younger girl explained.

"Well it was an accident, wasn't it?" Lena inquired. Mariana nodded her head. "Then why would we be mad?"

Mariana looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Everyone else always is." She crinkled her brow in distress, seemingly recalling a memory. "'It doesn't matter if you meant to, the damned thing's still broke,'" she quoted in a bitter tone.

Lena was slightly taken aback by the vulgar language coming out of the child's mouth. It scared her to think someone had said that to her, and it scared her even more to think that she remembered well enough to repeat it directly.

"Did someone say that to you?" she quietly asked.

"To Jesus," Mariana said. "And then he yelled at him and hit him and made him pick up all the pieces," she looked up at the woman sitting before her. "I just wanted to help him pick up the pieces this time," she nearly whispered.

Lena felt ill hearing this information. Although she had suspected almost as much, it didn't make the blows of hearing it any less painful. The anticipation required no padding and the confession broke her heart. Not knowing the right words to say, figuring there probably _were_ no right words to say, Lena settled for placing a comforting kiss on her forehead. She was happily surprised when Mariana's flinching was kept to a minimum.

Lena then continued to wrap her hand in silence, giving her knee a reassuring squeeze when she heard a wince from the anti-infective gel coming into contact with the open wound. When she was satisfied that the abrasions were reasonably tended to, she sat there for a beat, just gazing at the girl before her. Gently placing her hands on her shoulders, she finally figured out what she should say.

"We're all gonna start helping pick up the pieces," she promised, kissing her forehead once more.

This time, Mariana didn't flinch at all.

**Your support makes me sob hysterically on a daily basis. Thank you all so much for your feedback. Please continue to respond with your thoughts. I'm constantly blown away by your kindness. **

**Fun fact: Ironically, I managed to cut myself on a piece of broken glass at work on Saturday. However, Lena was not there to tend to my wounds. I was very disappointed. **

**Shoutout to Liz and Grace for helping me with this chapter. You guys are the best!**


	4. Bruised

**I don't own The Fosters. Ugh. **

Jesus gnawed at his fingernail, sitting as still as he could manage in his designated barstool. He was ordered to sit in it as Stef went to fetch the dustpan from the closet. He knew he deserved whatever he had coming, but that didn't mean he was excited about it. The truth was he was terrified. The last time something like this had happened it hadn't been pretty. He glanced down at his arm, poking at the slightly lighter line of skin. The injury had miraculously cleared up in due time, but the scars were still there – physically and emotionally.

He sat quietly as he watched Stef come back into the room, dustpan in hand. The room was excruciatingly quiet; the slight clangs of glass tinkling against each other was the only sound to be heard as they were swept up and discarded into the trash bag.

He hated the quietness. It was driving him crazy. He just wanted to know what was coming. Was that too much to ask? To be prepared for what he was going to endure? Why couldn't they at least give him that? At least if he had time to prepare himself he could attempt to calm himself as to not scare Mariana.

But no one ever gave him warning. The blindsided abruptness was like a sick addition to the consequence. He could hardly stand it any longer, but feared any outburst would be met with even more ruthlessness than what was already in store for him. On second thought, what would be the harm in asking politely? As he thought about it, nothing they could do to him would be worse than this agonizing anticipation of not knowing what was to come.

He finally got the courage to speak up, his voice dead and void of any emotion. "What's my punishment going to be?"

Stef's heart jumped a little at the sudden voice interrupting her quiet focus. She was determined to get every little shard of glass into the trashcan and out the door as soon as possible. "I'm sorry?" she asked, not hearing the boy.

"I asked what my punishment was going to be," Jesus repeated, his voice lifeless and flat.

"Oh sweetheart, you're not going to get punished," Stef said, scraping what she hoped to be the last bit of glass remnants into the trash bag, tying it tightly when she felt confident she had gotten all the remains of the cup.

"I'm not?" Jesus asked dumbfounded, almost in disbelief.

"Of course not love, it was an accident. You don't get punished for accidents."

Jesus squinted his eyes. This was news to him. But he was happy with this news if this was the way it worked in this house. However, the relief was short-lived as the guilt from earlier once again made its return to the forefront of his mind and the pit of his stomach.

Stef lowered an eyebrow as she spied the look on the boy's face. She walked over to the barstool adjacent to him, taking a seat. "Hey," she said, nudging the usually relatively good-natured, sociable child. "What's wrong, kiddo?"

Jesus swallowed and gritted his teeth. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her. She would get mad and hurt him. But he _had _to. "Nothing," he chickened out. "Just…nothing," he said again.

Stef raised an eyebrow. Something was definitely up. Jesus was a terrible liar. "You sure about that?" she asked, not menacingly, but still with evident query and authority.

Jesus' face went pale. He couldn't believe he was about to do this. After what he told Mariana and after what had happened at the last home they had been to…he couldn't believe he would open his big mouth. But he couldn't keep it inside anymore. The secret was dying to get out and he was unable to control it slipping from his mouth.

"I failed my spelling test," he admitted, immediately wishing he could take it back. His breathing got quicker and he was so mad at himself. Mad for telling and mad for ruining everything, not only for himself, but for Mariana as well. He was so angry and frustrated and his heart raced. He had been sitting forever and he had to get up and do something. He always sat around and let things happen to him, but his body was begging him to _do _something.

He practically jumped out of his chair. "There, I said it," he said. "I failed my spelling test! So you may not punish people for accidents but you probably punish them when they fail their spelling tests, don't you?" he practically spat. "So can we please get it over with?" he asked. He knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do in this situation, but he couldn't control himself. It was so unfair. He managed to mess up everything and he didn't know how he could stop it. Mariana deserved so much better than this.

"Well go ahead," he said, frantically pacing the floor. He was running out of breath. "Go ahead, I'm ready now," he said, practically panting. He paused, gasping, trying to regain steady breaths. He looked at Stef.

She was frozen into place at the unexpected outburst. It had all happened so quickly that it almost made her head spin. You'd think she'd have been used to it by now considering she dealt with unplanned chaos daily on the job, but it was always different when it was someone you were close to, when it was virtually one of your own.

Before Stef could think of appropriate action to take or words to say, Jesus cut her off. He was growing impatient and extremely confused. Where was the yelling and the screaming and the threatening and the consequence? Why was she just standing there, looking at him? He didn't understand. She wasn't supposed to react this way. She was supposed to be livid.

"What are you doing?" he practically shouted. "Don't just stand there, do something!" he demanded. "Do something, please," he nearly pleaded. He couldn't comprehend what was happening. Why wasn't she angry? Why was she looking at him like that? With…kindness? This wasn't normal, this wasn't right; this wasn't how anything was supposed to be at all. She was supposed to hurt him so he could hate her and maybe not feel so bad about screwing everything up.

Tears stung at his eyes and he was overwhelmed at the entire ordeal. It was like he was on some other planet, one that he couldn't comprehend. He craved some normalcy, something he was used to. He just wanted things to be regular so that at least there was some sense of pattern, no matter how excruciating that pattern may be.

"Just hit me or something," he commanded, his voice threatening to crack. "Please, just hit me," he said. The tears threatened to spill over as he stood on the other side of the counter. "I deserve it I don't understand," he muttered, continuing to murmur unintelligible things, his face creased with frustration and deeply-seeded pain.

Stef carefully got up from her seat, walking over to the child with her hands up in the most non-threatening position she could think of to muster. However, that didn't stop Jesus from recoiling about three feet backwards when he saw Stef's hand move towards him.

"It's okay," she told him, wrapping his arms around him in a gentle support.

"I don't understand," he mumbled into her shirt. "This isn't what's supposed to happen. I don't deserve this," he murmured softly.

Stef struggled not to cringe. She felt an intense hatred, fiery and sudden brew inside her. Whoever had convinced Jesus – her son as far as she was concerned – that he had done anything to justify a beating needed a serious thrashing themselves.

"Why won't you just hit me?" he questioned, still in the blonde's embrace.

"Because hitting anybody is wrong, Jesus," Stef said with conviction. "And I promise you as long as you're in this house, no one will ever do it, okay?"

"Even if I do something to deserve it?"

Stef sighed. "You won't. There's nothing you could do that would ever make you deserve it," she swore, pulling away to look him in the eye.

Jesus nodded, not completely convinced. However, he had gained back some composure, and he looked slightly less tense than before. He avoided Stef's eyes, looking off to the side as he opened his mouth to say something once more.

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't so stupid," he admitted.

"Jesus, you are not stupid," Stef replied with fervor.

"I am," he replied. "I failed my spelling test and I broke the glass and I don't even know why or how. Everyone else can spell and not break things all the time. But I can't. Because I'm stupid," he explained.

"Honey, look at me," Stef instructed, gently positioning his chin so he was forced to look at her. "You, my friend, are not stupid. Some things just come more easily to some people. And you know what? That's okay," she assured him with a smile. "It's okay that you have a little trouble with spelling. And so what if you're a little clumsy? That means we just spend some more time studying the spelling list and buy some plastic cups," she said.

Although in the back of her mind she couldn't help wondering if maybe his problems were bigger than just English and klutziness. She made a mental note to confer with Lena about scheduling a doctor's appointment just to be safe. He was having some difficulties at school lately, and she figured it wouldn't hurt to pay a quick visit to the pediatrician. However, that was beside the point. That she could deal with later. Right now she had more urgent matters to attend to.

"In fact, I think you may just be one of the smartest people I know," she said, as if letting him in on a secret.

"Really?" Jesus asked, skeptically but flattered nonetheless.

"Really," Stef nodded. "You know everything about football. And skateboarding, you are excellent at that. Just the other day you told me about the one guy. What's his name again? The skateboard guy. Last name was some kind of bird. Timmy Eagle?"

Jesus laughed. "Tony Hawk," he corrected.

"That's right! See! You know way more about all that stuff than I ever will. We can all learn things from each other," she said.

Jesus smiled, a slightly mischievous look etching the way onto his features. "You know, I could even teach you how to skateboard if you want."

"Oh really?" Stef raised an eyebrow. "Well, how could I pass up an offer to learn from a pro?" she asked. "Why don't you go get your sister and see if she could go for a little boarding lesson as well," she said, rubbing his back.

"Really?" Jesus asked, still firmly rooted in the kitchen.

"Go for it, kid," she directed, prompting him up the stairs with a pat to his shoulder. "Oh! And invite you mama out too!" she called up the stairs. "God knows she'll get a kick out of this," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. She could already see the smirk on Lena's face as she watched her fall straight on her ass. She could hear the lecture now as she threw her a bag of ice. 'What on God's great earth were you thinking, Stefanie?'

At which point she could probably ask herself the same question. What was she thinking? How had she gotten herself into this? Could she really give these two children the care they needed? These two wonderful, loveable, damaged, perfect children? Her children?

And then they came down the stairs, their faces smiling and excited and _happy_. Genuinely happy. With two bandaged hands and a tear-stained face. This family was chaotic and challenging and there was still such a long way to go.

But they had already come so far.

And it was the farthest thing from perfect, but it was the closest thing to family. Together – picking up the pieces.

**That's the end of this particular story! Thank you all SO MUCH for all of your wonderful responses! I would really appreciate you giving me some final feedback as well! Don't worry, folks, you know I can't stay away from these characters for too long, so odds are there'll be another pre-pilot story out sooner rather than later. I am also very open to taking requests if anyone has anything particular they would like to see! I can't promise I'll write them all, but I'll definitely take them all into account, whether you get them to me via PM or review! Thank you all so much! Much love!**

**Final acknowledgements: thanks justliziam and obsessedatopia. You make my writing comprehensible. And you're nice people…most of the time. **


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